Buffeted

John 3:8
The wind blows wherever it pleases. You hear its sound, but you cannot tell where it comes from or where it is going.
So it is with everyone born of the Spirit.

Monk's cell looked out over the moors. He remembered as a child building kites with long tails, flying them high in the sky. It was fun, wind buffeting them, coming from changing directions - or dropping suddenly to a calm. 

So it was with the Holy Spirit buffeting life from adventure to adventure, neither clinging onto what was nor holding the way ahead too firmly in his grasp.

He felt that breeze again at his back, realizing maybe this time he had got close to laying selfish plans wanting his own way - he closed his eyes, and let go.